


Love Never Gives Up

by theladyofautumn



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Minor Character Death, The Autumn Court (ACoTaR), The Day Court (Acotar), True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-22 14:42:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladyofautumn/pseuds/theladyofautumn
Summary: Eris finally calls in his side of the deal and gets the Night Court to back him up when he overthrows Beron. A party is thrown and lovers are reunited after centuries of being apart from each other. A bond is snapped in place. Drama? whose she?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Seeing as the Lady of Autumn doesn't have a name, I've taken to calling her Hestia Vanserra. I've got a soft spot for her and this fic is basically just me wanting my girl to be happy with a certain High Lord named Helion ;)

Chapter 1

Eris Vanserra listened as his father ranted on and on about nonsense, his mother silent as ever besides him. She made no sound, not even when his father would harm her, it’s as though her whole body had gone numb and unfeeling. The only time there was any life in her eyes was when Beron wasn’t around or if she’d received a letter from Lucien. There were on those rare occasions when the day was bright and warm, that a soft smile would grace her porcelain face, only to vanish when Beron entered the room.

Never outside or far from his father, Eris noticed a decade or two ago. Lady Hestia of the Autumn Court was forbidden from leaving the estate unless himself, one of his brothers or a servant was with her. All because of an affair that happened a few centuries ago between his mother and the High Lord of Day. Eris was young when it happened, but still old enough to understand the love that was clearly not for his father but for Helion, can still remember her bubbly laugh and free spirit that was now chained down from the marriage she was forced into. He could still remember the day it all stopped, his mothers golden skin dull, her russest eyes no longer bright and her tight lipped smiles. Beron’s vicious glares directed at her and the burn marks that Hestia tried to hide from her sons.

“...the bastard thought he could get away with it too!” His father's frustrated roar snapped him out of his daze and Eris had to stop himself from the temptation to roll his eyes. Not wanting to give his father more reasons to be pissed. Excusing himself from the council room, he walked down the hall of the manor. Watching leafs fall from the trees as he passed them.

When he was certain he was alone and there was no prying eyes or ears, he released a sigh and sat down on a cushioned seat in front of his desk and grabbed a quill, dripping it in the ink pot. A piece of paper in front of him as he began composing a letter, only writing five words before sending it away to the Night Court.

‘I’m calling in my half of the deal.’

A knock at the door then silence. Looking towards the window before casting his gaze at the wooden door with an arched brow, he only sent the letter three hours ago. Another look outside and understanding washed over him, it was dark out. Perfect timing for planning the overthrow of his father, “Come in.”

Shadows rippled in answer and a body formed until Rhysand stood there in his usual black clothes, violet eyes looking at Eris in mock amusement, and a hint of curiosity, “Why act now?” He asked in that smooth voice of his.

Eris sighed loudly and looked up towards the ceiling in his study. “My mother.” he said quietly as if though that was answer enough. He didn’t bother looking towards the High Lord of Night as he waited for a response, when it did come Rhysand seemed more relaxed and glad to help. Apparently anyone was willing to help if Hestia’s wellbeing was involved. 

Everything the Autumn heir suggested was shut down and multiple flaws were also pointed out by the High Lord. Who was finding this all to be very amusing, deciding not to say anything close to a plan until the heir gave up.

He need not wait very long as Eris had soon pinched his nose and took a deep breath as to calm himself before eyeying Rhysand, gesturing with his hand for the Illyrian to come out with it.

“As much as I enjoy seeing you struggle, I have a mate requesting I come back to bed,” he purred, getting ready to depart, “but first, I recommend you challenging him to a fight to the death and kill him yourself.”

Those words still echoed through Eris’ head a week later, he had not heard word from Rhysand since that night. Nor has he made an attempt to challenge his father just yet. What was to happen if he died? His mother would still be abused and in pain, not from physical pain but from out living another one of her sons. His brothers would probably slaughter one another until there was either one left standing or none at all. Eris’ probably wouldn't worry so much if they did since there was still Lucien, in the safety of the Night Court. But he knew, knew that Lucien was his half brother and no heir to Autumn but the heir to Day. 

So he threw himself into training, remembering all his father's techniques when it came to fighting and made up moves that would hopefully deflect majority of the blows and keep Eris alive long enough to have the killing blow.


	2. Last Straw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like blood or killing, shitty writing, then this isn't for you
> 
> Also, longer chapter then the last one (?)

Chapter 2

It was the last straw.

No matter how much he attempted to convince himself otherwise, giving the man a chance as he was his father. Eris just couldn’t overlook the hallow look in his Mother's russest eyes as Beron berated her in front of everyone. Tonight was supposed to be civil and calm but his...sperm donor took a great distaste to the quiet and peaceful chatter amongst his guest and took matters into his own hands to entertain himself.

Beron couldn’t even be excused for being under the influence of the strong liquor that everyone was drinking. As everyone knew the man hadn’t touched his glass full of the Mocktail, the beverage still in the golden goblet, not even a ripple within the alcohol. His foul words had a few of the court ladies paling and others sending looks of pity towards the Lady of Autumn. Who sat there staring into the distance with those lifeless eyes, if it weren’t for her body moving with each breath she took, and the steady beat of her heart, one would assume she was dead.

The other men seated at the table either ignored what was happening or shuffled awkwardly in their seats, just as Eris himself was doing. He was glaring openly at his High Lord and cauldron help Beron if his eldest chose to act on his rage now, the fire burning under his skin as several ways to end this display of abuse in an instant ran through his mind, ideas he wouldn’t mind doing right now, in front of all their guests. But Eris was no fool, he would be dead if he didn’t have a clear mind, especially as his head was clouded by the influence of the alcohol in his system.

“Mother,” He called casually, successfully getting her attention and a glare from Beron. “Join me for a walk?” 

Hestia had to stop herself from nodding rapidly, a shuddering sigh escaping her when she was sure her husband’s attention wasn’t on her as she dipped her head. Standing from where she seated and took her eldest sons arm when he offered it to her and lead her away from the dining room. Her heels clinking against the stone ground quietly, being the only sound from her.

“Are you alright?” Eris asked, his voice dropped to a whisper as he guided his mother further away and towards her bedroom. She hadn’t even noticed he was escorting her back to her bedroom-one she did not share with Beron, a small mercy in itself.

She almost went to lie and say she was fine, however she caught herself. This was her son and the only one who even bothered to put an end to Beron’s criticising. Glancing up unsure she released a sigh and the corner of her lips twitched only for a moment before it was gone. That ghost of a smile as she shook her head. “Truefully,” she spoke slow and quietly, testing her voice and thinking over her words. “I believe I’d prefer the cold hands of death over this...hell.” Hestia’s voice got quieter with each word. 

They haltered outside her bedrooms wooden doors, Eris had gone pale at her words. The fire simmering under his skin and he leaned down and kissed his mother's head, giving her hand a squeeze. She was so cold in comparison to him, nothing but a lifeless doll that did as she was told.

“It will be over soon, I promise.” He whispered against her hair, pulling back and dropping her hand.

Putting his hands in the pockets of his black dress pants and turned around, beginning the walk back to his own room and ignoring his mother’s questioning gaze that continued to watch him before he turned a corner and was out of her sight.

The smell of sour apples and the crisp and cindery smell of baked goods filled the air the next morning. The morning breeze was chilly and gave Eris nausea as it took in the scent the wind carried, it reminded him of centuries ago when he was around the age of seventy, maybe sixty. It made his head spin just thinking about it, he could remember it just being himself and Taren, who was born after him making him the second eldest, along with a very happy and bright mother who spoiled them rotten with apple crumble she called it. She even taught them how to dance and befriend the foxes, even owned one as a companion at one point.

Beron was barely in the picture, was present during the births of his other five brothers before Lucien. Now that was when it all went to shit, Taren and himself stayed away from the mess. There was one time Taren had joined in and that had gotten him killed by Tamlin.

Shaking his head from those thoughts and wiping the smile off his face that had showed when the memories started coming back. He hated these mornings, they always made him think back to those times and he just wanted to splash water on his face until he woke up from it all. He visited Taren’s unmarked grave at dawn before making his way to the throne room that was decorated in Autumn’s traditional colours, fires lit by the double wooden doors that had carvings on them.

Beron sat at his proclaimed throne, talking to whoever had a complaint today. Hestia standing besides him emotionless as ever as she ignored the world around her. The air was tense when he entered the room, shoes making that satisfying sound as he walked across the stoned floor and towards his usual spot, waiting for his brothers to show up.

An hour later and Beron called for a break harshly, glaring at the petty women before she could even step a foot inside. Sending her running, probably to never return. 

It was time.

His breaths were even, Eris willed his heart to stop racing half an hour ago when he received odd looks from his High Lord and mother.

Praying to the cauldron that he would make it he moved, steps lazy and casual and he stood below the dias in front of the man that he was positive he was going to end. End his reign, end his abuse to both power and his mother and rid him of this world.

Beron raised a brow and didn’t even get to speak before Eris cut him off.

“I challenge you,” he started, gaining the attention of his mother as she looked awfully confused. Good, an emotion. “A fight to the death if you will, right here, right now.” He made himself looked away from his mother and back to Beron, the former’s face draining of life as her eyes screamed for them not to do this. Panic overwhelming her as she took a step forward only to be stopped by her other sons who held her back, them all having the same look in their eyes.

The eldest of them all smirked, standing from where he sat, a broken laugh emitting from him as he clicked his fingers, a servant immediately bringing a weapon to him, a hatchet with both blades sharp enough to slice through his body in two swings, maybe one.

“Are you positive boy?” He drawled, snorting at the simple longsword in Eris’ hand. The blade sharpened, sunlight catching the blade and it almost looked as though it were aflame. Hearing no response Beron barked a laugh that would send lesser men running, hell Eris wanted to run himself.

Their eyes locked, a wild look in Beron’s that sent a chill down Eris’ spine but he didn’t give anything away, at least he hoped he hadn’t. Taking a deep breath, shared a look with his brothers and mother. Then they moved, meeting each other halfway, the sound of their blades meeting rang throughout the room. From there on it was a dance of death, each move giving both a new injury and their weapons sung a song as they were swung and used to stop an attack.

Getting free from her other sons, Hestia’s gasp ringed out throughout the throne room, a hand flying up to her mouth as she watched Beron strike Eris’ stomach. A sob choking out of her as her knees threatened to buckle under her, her mind racing and the nearby fires bursting with life matching her emotions, a flicker of a colour change from the red and orange to an icy blue before remaining back to the natural colour.

A shuddering breath of relief left her mouth as she witnessed Eris use the remaining of his strength as he drove the longsword, that was alight with flame now, into Beron’s chest. Twisting it in his hands as blood splattered on his face, glaring with such hatred at the dying man that it sent chills down Hestia’s spine.

Beron’s lips twisted into a cruel smirk as he coughed up blood, getting it on Eris’ face-who didn’t blink. The same crimson blood slowly dripped down the High Lords lips as he stared at his eldest son with pain and amusement in his brown eyes. No regret was seen or guilt which made Eris twist his blade again. The wounds that had been inflicted on his body stopped healing as he took his final breath and the ancient magic passed down from High Lord to High Lord, eased itself into Eris.

Crowning him the new High Lord of Autumn as he drew his sword out of the former High Lord’s chest and watched with mild satisfaction as blood pooled around the lifeless body of a cruel man. His eyes gazed up at his pale stricken mother, dropping the sword to the ground as he collapsed to his knees. Blood soaking into his pants as what he had done fully sunk in.

Without much struggle from her other sons, Hestia rushed from where she was and dropped to her knees besides her eldest, brushing the hair that stuck to his face back. No words were said, nor were they needed. Instead Hestia brought him into her embrace, pressing a kiss to his head.

It worked.

Just as he and Rhysand had planned a week before. Eris was able to successfully overthrow his father and he lived through it. He can already feel his wounds mending themselves, patching his skin up as the blood dried. He freed his mother in the process of it all and...why did he feel so much pain? He felt like crying, screaming until his voice went hoarse. However, he did no such thing, especially not with his brothers present so he leaned into his mother's embrace.

Committing the warmth he felt in her arms to memory, as he did not believe his mother would be staying long now that she was free from a marriage she did not want. He saw it too, in her russet eyes that held so much pain, become lighter at the freedom but guilt and regret clouded her eyes all the same before she had been rushing to him. Eris knew she would stay if he asked, even if it was for a week or a month of her stay but he had no right to what she did or didn’t do. No one did, not anymore.

His gaze met that of the youngest of Beron’s remaining sons and he blinked feeling a headache come on as he muttered something about sending word out to the other High Lords and the Autumn Court that there was a new High Lord.

After that he let his mother guide him back to his rooms, telling him the bath as she fixed up his room before smiling sadly and told him to rest.


End file.
